


sick of all these people talking, sick of all this noise

by knightswatch



Series: Pack Mentality [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Arguing, Drabble Series, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Swearing, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswatch/pseuds/knightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere between Interhigh and the day Oikawa decides not to retire for the year yet, Yahaba runs into Kyoutani in the library. It's a surprise to see him there, of all things, curled between the shelves with earbuds in, face buried in a book. The music is humming loud enough that Yahaba can hear the strains of a piano and a female voice. He looks strangely small, fingers curled around the cover, brow scrunched tight and mouth working around silent words that could be lyrics or what he's reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sick of all these people talking, sick of all this noise

**Author's Note:**

> hello naughty children welcome to Kyouhaba hell

Somewhere between Interhigh and the day Oikawa decides not to retire for the year yet, Yahaba runs into Kyoutani in the library. It's a surprise to see him there, of all things, curled between the shelves with earbuds in, face buried in a book. The music is humming loud enough that Yahaba can hear the strains of a piano and a female voice. He looks strangely small, fingers curled around the cover, brow scrunched tight and mouth working around silent words that could be lyrics or what he's reading.

For some unearthly reason he senses Yahaba staring and lifts his head, frowning. One of his eyes is swollen halfway shut by a bruise that's mottled purple and black. He manages to glare anyways, jerking one earbud out so sharply the cord creaks. “What are you staring at?”

He has his face turned partly away like he wants to cover for the bruise. Yahaba doesn't break his stare, shrugging his shoulders and making his bag bounce slightly by his hip. “Maybe I'm surprised you can read.”

He almost slaps a hand over his own mouth, wondering what would possess him to pick a fight with a known delinquent. He has better self control than this, he's selective about how people see him and because of that he has a good reputation. Kyoutani looks just as shocked, frown getting deeper. “Of course I can fucking read. Are you stupid?”

Yahaba frowns in return, crossing his arms over his chest. Part of him reasons that maybe he should be scared but instead he's annoyed. “You're right, I should have figured it out from your awesome grades.”

He does not, in fact, know Kyoutani's grades, but from the look he gets, he's betting 'awesome' doesn't describe them. He doesn't wait for a quip (or more likely more cursing) in return, instead grabbing the book he was looking for originally. He leans over Kyoutani's head for it and when he leans back he's still being stared at, only now with guarded curiosity. “You're on the volleyball team.”

“You aren't,” he shoots back, even if that's not strictly true. Kyoutani's on the roster as a third string player but he hasn't shown up to practice since the first week of the year. His bet is that Kyoutani doesn't even remember his name, which absolutely does not bother him at all, or at least it shouldn't. Kyoutani shrugs at that.

“It's not like being a back-up is worth my time,” he doesn't even sound like he's really trying to be insulting and Yahaba narrows his eyes. “I practice on my own anyway.”

That makes Yahaba snort at him, flexing his fingers around the spine of his book. “How is that supposed to help?”

Kyoutani's eyebrows scrunch together in confusion (or maybe anger, Yahaba can't really tell the two apart on his face). “Why wouldn't it?”

“It's not like you play volleyball by yourself in a game,” he rolls his eyes, leaning one shoulder on the shelf now, giving up the pretense that he might just walk away from this conversation. Kyoutani turns to face him fully for the first time, shaking his head with determination written big and loud across his face.

“I don't need anybody else,” he snorts and, helplessly, Yahaba laughs. He can see the tips of Kyoutani's ears flushing red and should probably be preparing himself for a punch to the gut, but he can't seem to make himself stop.

“Sorry-- just-- are you gonna set the ball so you can spike it yourself?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls and Yahaba wipes fake tears from his eyes. “You're such a dick, of course I'm not gonna do that. Why are all setters such freaks?”

He has a quip in return ready, but loses it with the surprise that Kyoutani even knows he's a setter. He blinks his eyes twice before shrugging his shoulders. “So, I'm a dick and a freak? You have such boring insults, I figured you'd be better at them.”

“Why?” Kyoutani snorts, crossing his thickly muscled arms across his chest. Yahaba rolls his eyes with a small huff, because there's no way Kyoutani isn't aware of his reputation. But he continues staring back blankly.

“You're sort of famous, Mad Dog-chan,” he lets his voice lilt to purposeful annoyance, an imitation of the pitch Oikawa coos at Iwaizumi with to piss him off. Kyoutani's face plummets instantly, and Yahaba shrugs. “Also you clearly just got into a fight.”

“Don't call me that,” he snaps, turning his face to try and hide the bruise again. “And I didn't get into any fight-- people make that shit up.”

“Where's the black eye from then, Ken-chan?” The change in nickname makes him blush and he tries and fails to hide it; Yahaba tries very hard not to consider that reaction as being cute. Kyoutani pushes himself up, pressing into Yahaba's space at the opening between the shelves, frowning. It's hard not to notice from the position that he's almost a head taller than Kyoutani, and he's probably not as intimidated by him as he should be. His whole body is stiff and he tilts his head up with a glare.

“That's none of your fucking business,” he snaps before shouldering his way past with a growl, leaving Yahaba blinking in surprise.


End file.
